


Good morning, Champion

by henriqua



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Morning Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Canon, not super explicit tho, sweet and sleepy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-20
Updated: 2017-04-20
Packaged: 2018-10-21 07:56:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10681020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/henriqua/pseuds/henriqua
Summary: “It’s already past noon,” Otabek says and Yuri groans, stretching his legs under the blanket.“We left the banquet at like, four or something? Normal people need sleep after things like that.”“‘Normal people’?” Otabek laughs in disbelief and pulls Yuri against his chest, pressing a kiss on the back of his neck. “I don’t think you are one of those, Mr. Just-Broke-Another-World-Record.”





	Good morning, Champion

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this as a stress relief (and also to calm my nerves bc I'm currently working on another otayuri pwp and its sin level is reaching the sky, basically).

Rays of bright morning sun manage to slip in the hotel room through a small gap between the heavy, cream-coloured curtains. Otabek squeezes his eyes shut as a pathetic attempt to fall back asleep, but the sun is too powerful - its shine is luminous, lighting up the whole room. It feels warm and pleasant on Otabek’s skin and he blinks his eyes open with a sigh, stretching his arms.  
  
Even though Otabek is usually very tidy person, on that moment his hotel room is a mess. His suitcase lies open in the middle of the floor, most of the things he needs to pack piled next to it. Three different skating costumes have been thrown over the suitcase, black skates with mismatched blade covers placed neatly on top of them. Otabek takes a look around the room and finds pieces of his dark blue suit scattered around the room, already wrinkled - his tie has found its way in his duffle bag that’s right next to the bed, the zipper open. A ray of sun hits the pair of medals left on the dressing table (golden next to a silver one), making them glisten and sparkle bright enough to blind.  
  
He rolls on his other side on the bed, turning his back to the bright sun as if it had personally insulted him (what it kind of did, because Otabek wouldn’t have minded sleeping for another hour or two). The banquet held last night had been a fun, eventful one with a lot of champagne and happy skaters. However, it had been way past midnight when Otabek had left the party and hit the bed, and his muscles are still sore and tired from all the work he had put them through in the past week.  
  
Otabek snuggles closer to the man sharing the bed with him and throws an arm over his waist. He smiles into the back of his neck, breathing in the familiar, soothing scent. Yuri lets out a small, sleepy whine, but doesn’t wake up - his breathing is slow and heavy, blond hair still styled like he had worn it in his exhibition performance the day before. Otabek glances over Yuri’s shoulder to have a look of the alarm clock standing on the bedside table and lies back down with a heavy sigh - it’s almost noon.  
  
Otabek shifts on the bed to get some space between their bodies, and with gentle fingers he undoes Yuri’s slightly disheveled ponytail. He runs his hand through the long hair, carefully untangling the knots he comes across. He’s in the middle of figuring out how the braid on the side of Yuri’s head is done when there’s a hand placed on top of his.  
  
“What’re you doing?” Yuri mumbles, his voice still full of sleep. He pries Otabek’s fingers away and guides the hand on his waist instead.  
  
“Trying to wake you up.”  
  
“Rude.”  
  
“It’s already past noon,” Otabek says and Yuri groans, stretching his legs under the blanket.  
  
“We left the banquet at like, four or something? Normal people need sleep after things like that.”  
  
“‘Normal people’?” Otabek laughs in disbelief and pulls Yuri against his chest, pressing a kiss on the back of his neck. “I don’t think you are one of those, Mr. Just-Broke-Another-World-Record.”  
  
“I hate you,” Yuri snickers when Otabek keeps placing kisses on his neck, tickling him with the tip of his nose on the way. Otabek can’t stifle a laugh and Yuri squirms under the arm that’s still around his waist, giggling and spitting out swear words when Otabek only tightens his hold around the blond.  
  
Their laughter dies slowly down, and when Otabek feels Yuri relaxing under his arm he kisses him once more, a haste one right under his ear. Yuri gives a content hum and presses himself more firmly against Otabek, their legs getting tangled under the covers. Otabek’s fingertips brush the skin exposed by Yuri’s ridden up shirt (an official T-shirt for the Kazakhstan team - Yuri had stolen it from Otabek’s pile of training clothes, and because Otabek loves nothing more than seeing his boyfriend in his clothing he had said nothing), and he closes his eyes.  
  
Otabek knows Yuri is gifted when it comes to sleeping - he isn’t a morning person, he can fall asleep anywhere and sleep around the clock (Otabek is secretly (or not so secretly) jealous of Yuri’s skill). After a moment of silence Yuri’s breathing starts to get slower, like it always does when he’s swaying between sleep and consciousness, and Otabek draws random patterns on the blond’s stomach to help him relax.  
  
He keeps creating invisible masterpieces on Yuri’s skin, slowly making his way up on the blond’s upper body. Otabek draws a line from his navel to the center of his chest, counts his ribs by tapping them with a finger, and sighs when Yuri’s breathing hitches as Otabek runs a thumb over his nipple.  
  
“Beka…”  
  
“Is this okay?” Otabek mumbles against the back of Yuri’s neck, and the blond nods. Otabek circles his finger around the hardening nub slowly, pinching it gently before brushing the pads of his fingers over it. He splays his hand over Yuri’s chest and idly drags it downwards, his blunt nails against the pale skin making the blond shiver.  
  
Otabek’s hand reaches the waistband of Yuri’s underwear, making the blond rock his hips against the man behind him. Otabek kisses the shell of Yuri’s ear and lazily palms him through the fabric of his underwear, feeling his cock hardening under the touches. Yuri keeps grinding his ass on Otabek’s crotch in slow circles, matching the rhythm of the hand that slips past the waistband.  
  
Yuri gasps when Otabek strokes him leisurely from base to tip, thumbing the slit. His movements are careful yet slightly sloppy, like he wasn’t fully paying attention to what he’s doing, yet Yuri can feel a hard-on pressing against the curve of his ass. Yuri sighs out Otabek’s name and earns a soft kiss on the sensitive spot right under his ear.  
  
“I’ll be right back,” Otabek mumbles into Yuri’s hair and reaches for his duffel bag on the floor next to the bed. He finds the small bottle of lube he has stashed in the side pocket and takes it, settling back behind his boyfriend. Together they work Yuri’s underwear out of the way, and it doesn’t take long from Otabek to cover his fingers in lube and, with utmost care and patience, push one of them inside Yuri.  
  
“Relax for me, baby,” Otabek whispers between kisses he keeps planting on Yuri’s neck, curling the finger inside him. Yuri whines, his eyes fluttering close, and tries his best at doing what Otabek asks from him. Otabek knows it always takes a moment from the blond to get used to the feeling of having something inside him, and he pumps his finger in and out slowly, not adding another one before both of them breath in the same, calm rhythm.  
  
When Yuri’s body and mind relax, fingering him becomes a lot easier: he takes two fingers easily, gasping and sighing when Otabek spreads him open and fastens the pace. Otabek curls the fingers inside Yuri, the small noises spilling from him getting a tiny bit louder. Yuri rolls his hips to have Otabek’s fingers deeper in himself, and that’s the older man’s cue to add a third one. He pushes them in carefully, making sure not to hurt Yuri, and is rewarded with tiny, satisfied moans.  
  
“Beka,” Yuri whines after a while sounding almost annoyed, drawing out the last vowel of the name. Otabek pulls his fingers out and Yuri whines again, this time in annoyance even though he prompted the action in the first place. Otabek gets his dick out of his pants, already hard and aching, and strokes himself quickly a couple of times to spread lube all over. He positions himself on his side behind Yuri, a hand on the blond’s waist for extra support, and pushes in.  
  
Otabek doesn’t stop until he’s fully inside Yuri, the movement fluid but slow. They moan in unison, Yuri’s hand now on top of Otabek’s, the blond’s other hand grasping the pillow his head rests on. The thrusts start out as lazy, both of their bodies tired and still half asleep. Otabek doesn’t pull completely out of Yuri, only a little before pushing back in, rolling his hips in circular motion to get deeper and find the best angle for both of them.  
  
Yuri’s small moans and sighs make the need and pleasure in Otabek grow more overwhelming than anything he’s physically feeling on that moment.  
  
“Yura,” Otabek chokes out when Yuri’s muscles start to clench around him, the telltale signs of his pleasure finally getting the best of him, his body trying to keep the orgasm at bay. Yuri’s fingers are wrapped around his own cock, his strokes matching Otabek’s thrusts. Otabek’s own fingers are digging into the skin of the blond’s waist, and he manages to wrap his arm around it to keep Yuri close when he comes with a moan.  
  
It takes a couple of harder, faster thrusts from Otabek to come as well, Yuri still riding out his own orgasm. Otabek pulls the blond against his chest, they both breathless from their respective releases, aftershocks making their bodies shiver. Yuri finds Otabek’s hand again and intertwines their fingers, Otabek giving him a quick kiss on the cheek.  
  
“You weren’t in hurry earlier, right? When you tried to wake me up.”  
  
“No,” Otabek answers, nuzzling the back of Yuri’s neck. “Just bored.”  
  
“Right, right,” Yuri says, absent-mindedly. He nudges Otabek’s leg with his own and the taller man pulls slowly out of him, making them both groan in displeasure. Otabek sits up and stretches his arms over his head, yawning. He knows he should get up, take a shower and finish packing - his flight back to Kazakhstan leaves in less than 12 hours.  
  
The room is full of yellow light, filtering in through the curtains, the temperature of the room definitely higher than when Otabek was rudely wakened by the sun. He looks at Yuri next to him, now lying on his back, eyes still half-lidded and bleary. There’s a small, sleepy smile on his face and he reaches for Otabek’s hand, taking it and giving it a gentle squeeze.  
  
“Hello, gorgeous,” Yuri says, and Otabek huffs out a laugh at the corny words (secretly he loves when Yuri says things like that - this kind of sweet, soft side of him is reserved to Otabek, and Otabek only).  
  
“Good morning, champion.”  
  
“Don’t call me that.”  
  
“It’s true, though.” Yuri is about to argue but Otabek beats him, bending down and placing a kiss on his lips. Yuri smiles, the look on his face one of those Otabek has grown so fond of, and in the end neither of them has to say anything to know what is in the other’s mind.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://sleepyams.tumblr.com/) | [twitter](https://twitter.com/vilmahenriika)


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